And He Lives On
by obstinance-as-an-artform
Summary: He turned to look at me, and his eyes grew wide in surprise. He hadn't expected me to be there. And maybe I shouldn't have been there. But all the same, his eyes bore into my own, communicating a thousand unspoken words. HG oneshot.


**And He Lives On**

I can remember everything from that night, right down to the very last detail. I remember the way it looked, the way it felt, the way it changed my life forever.

It was an unusually warm October night, with the wind blowing softly, scattering the fallen leaves across the ground. It had looked so peaceful, so tranquil. I remember standing in my new bedroom, in my new home, staring out of the window, admiring the beauty of the early October evening. I had left the window open a crack so I could feel the warm breeze tickle my flushed cheeks.

I had felt so alive at that moment. Excitement and happiness had dominated my emotions as I stood there, waiting for him to come home. I had glanced at the clock, seeing that it was a little after seven, realizing that he should have been home at least an hour before. Still, I didn't worry. I believed that he would walk in the door soon, and then I could tell him the news. The news I knew he would be just as happy about as I was.

Eight o'clock, nine o'clock came and went. Still, my hope didn't falter. I knew that he would come home. He would be there soon; I just knew it.

At eleven o'clock, I decided to change into my nightgown and get into bed. Only then did I start to worry. I crawled into my large bed alone, missing the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around my body. I twirled the ring he had given me only a month before on my finger, silently wondering where he was, and _why_ he wasn't lying in bed with me at that moment.

The doorbell rang at eleven-thirty, yanking me out of the half-sleep I had been absorbed in. I had clumsily made my way out of bed and down the stairs towards the front door. I unlocked it and opened it slowly, revealing my sister-in-law, wearing a very frightened expression. Her face was gaunt and pale, her eyes wide and filled with fear. I had never seen her like that before.

"Hermione?" I had said, pulling her into the house. But she had barely moved. It was as if her feet were rooted permanently to the ground.

"Ginny, you have to come with me right now," she had said, her voice quiet but firm.

I remember being confused, but I didn't have time to ask questions. Hermione had ordered me to Apparate to the Burrow, and I did as she instructed me.

When I had arrived at my former home, I was greeted with six identical horrorstruck faces. I looked from my mother and father to Fred and George, and finally to Ron and Hermione. It was then that I knew that something was wrong. Something was _horribly_ wrong.

I can remember getting there, although some of it is blurry. At times like these when I think back to that night, my memory clouds, but somehow I always manage to remember it all. I don't think I could forget it if I wanted to.

The warm breeze had been replaced with a chilly wind, and my infamous Weasley red hair was blowing wildly around my head. The wind was biting at my exposed skin, but I barely felt it. At that point, I was too frightened to feel anything but fear.

My eyes had frantically searched the area in front of me, but I was met with only darkness. There was no sign of him anywhere. I desperately hoped that I would catch a glimpse of him somewhere, _anywhere,_ but I saw nothing but the black darkness that surrounded me.

The only thought in my mind had been that I had to find him. Without a word to my family that was there with me, I ran blindly into the night. I ran down a steep hill, past a graveyard that was eerily illuminated by the soft glow of moonlight. An old, towering house loomed into view, and it was then that I saw the two silhouetted figures standing opposite each other, only a few feet in front of me.

Everything was oddly calm. There was no noise except for my own heavy breathing. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, and I immediately recognized the two figures. My heart plummeted as I realized what was about to happen. It had been prophesized; I knew it was going to happen, but I hadn't known just how quickly it would come.

He turned to look at me, and his eyes grew wide in surprise. He hadn't expected me to be there. And maybe I shouldn't have been there. But all the same, his eyes bore into my own, communicating a thousand unspoken words.

And then it happened. A few shouted words and two shots of green light was all it took. Somehow I had expected it to be more dramatic, more complicated. But on that night I learned that death was simple.

I watched in silent horror as the green jets of light hit both of them squarely in their chests. Voldemort fell first, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud. His snakelike red eyes were opened wide in shock, his mouth hanging slightly open. I let out the breath I hadn't even realized I had been holding as a temporary feeling of relief washed over me. The most evil wizard that had ever lived was finally dead. He was gone, out of the lives of witches and wizards everywhere. No longer could he terrorize and torture innocent people. The days of fear and uncertainty were finally over.

Voldemort was not the only one who had fallen that night. Across from him my eyes lingered on the crumpled body of the man I had always thought was invincible. He lay softly in the dead grass, his eyes closed peacefully, his glasses crooked on his face. His untidy black hair was pushed away from his forehead, revealing the scar that had marked him as the magical world's savior so many years ago. And he had done his job. He had saved us all, but somehow he had not managed to save himself.

My feet carried me over to his body, and I knelt beside him softly, still not fully comprehending what had happened. I think a part of me still wanted to believe that he was alive.

I had cradled his head in my lap, running my fingers through his hair, just like I had done so many times before. I expected his eyes to pop open and reveal the sparkling green that I so often lost myself in. I expected him to turn around and wrap me in his arms, giving me one of his kisses that always sent shivers down my spine. But his eyes remained closed, his body remained limp. It was then that I realized that the love of my life was really gone.

The tears had come, and I had cried openly, angrily, mournfully. I cried for all of the times we had spent together, blissfully unknowing of what the future held. I cried for the future we would never have, the future in which I was destined to be alone. And I cried for everything he hadn't known, everything he would _never_ know.

I stayed like that for a long while, crying while holding his lifeless body in my arms. Eventually, Ron and Hermione had come and pulled me away, forcibly dragging me away from the man I loved. They pulled me back into the darkness, forcing me to leave Harry and the life I had once known behind.

His green eyes were piercing my own as he looked at me with such truth and sincerity. We were outside by the lake, the castle not too far from view. It was a crisp November afternoon, and I was silently cursing myself for wearing only my Quidditch jersey. I hadn't realized how cold it was outside. "I love you," he said softly, not taking his eyes off of mine. He had said it so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that I didn't know what to say. So I leaned in and kissed him, letting him know that I felt exactly the same way.

I smiled at yet another bittersweet memory, placing an old photograph back into the box I kept hidden underneath my bed. It had been a few years since I last opened the lid of this box and looked at its contents. A few very long years.

I pulled out a stack of yellowed parchment that was tied together with a familiar scarlet and gold tie. It was his tie; I had contemplated throwing it into the fireplace on one of the many cold nights that I spent alone, but I had decided against it. I decided to use it to hold together the stack of love letters he had written me during my final year at Hogwarts.

I pushed the stack of love letters aside, not wanting to relive those memories just yet. They were too painful to look back upon. In those letters were promises that would never be fulfilled and hopes for a future that would never come.

I came across several other things inside of my secret box, all of them causing my heart to ache with sadness and loneliness. I hadn't been the same since he had gone. He had taken the light out of my life, leaving me alone in a dark and desolate shell of an existence.

I placed all of the mementoes and reminders of him back inside of the box, and I carefully shoved it back underneath the bed I had once shared with him. I stood and looked around the bedroom that felt empty without his presence, and my eyes landed on the one photograph of him I kept open in plain view.

I was dressed in a beautiful white gown, perfect for the midsummer day on which we wed. He was in his formal black tuxedo, looking so happy and carefree. We were both smiling and waving at the camera, our cheeks flushed with excitement. I could see how my eyes twinkled as I looked at him, and I could still feel how my heart leapt as he turned and smiled back at me.

Ron and Hermione were beside us in that photograph, both of them wearing identical bright smiles. Hermione looked stunning in the light pink bridesmaid gown I had picked out for her, and my brother looked handsome in the tuxedo that so closely resembled Harry's. I smiled at the photograph, remembering those carefree days all of us used to share, when we thought that everything was right with the world.

As my eyes filled with bittersweet tears from reminiscing about the memories of my past, I heard my name being called. I heard the soft patter of feet across the hallway outside of my bedroom door, accompanied by the shrill voice that repeated my name for a second time. I hastily wiped my eyes of the unshed tears and stood from my bed, walking towards the door. I drew a deep breath and smiled, opening my bedroom door fully.

"Mummy!" Elizabeth squealed, wrapping her small arms around my legs. I picked her up and held her, smiling at her round, rosy cheeks.

"Mummy, Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione are here," she said excitedly, wriggling out of my arms.

I nodded, placing her small, five-year-old body back onto the ground. I watched as she scurried across the hallway and down the staircase, her dark auburn hair flying behind her. She turned to look at me a final time, her familiar sparkling green eyes twinkling happily.

I turned and stepped into my bedroom once more, my eyes again lingering on the smiling photograph of my wedding day. I extinguished the candle that had been burning, giving the room its soft glow. Just as quickly as I had come, I left, closing the door on my memories.

I descended the staircase that my daughter had bounded down only moments ago. I smiled slightly, thinking of how much she resembled us. I pushed all of the painful memories out of my mind, realizing that he wasn't really gone. Because I knew that through her, a part of Harry would always live on.


End file.
